


Silent and Sweet

by JOGGENye



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Riding, not really spoilers?, theyre ver vague, ver fluffly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 07:26:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20238994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JOGGENye/pseuds/JOGGENye
Summary: Byleth's 95% nonverbal and Claude loves him for it.Or, oh yikes i accidentally stuck 10k plot into my 13k smut fic





	Silent and Sweet

It’s only the second time they've met. Only the second. 

Yet Claude continues to edge closer and closer.

Some odd woman is offering his father a job and a place to stay for the both of them- and Claude is eight inches away from him. It's the distance Jeralt usually keeps at- an unwanted but still familiar distance. It'd be better if everyone stayed a foot or more away, but since Jeralt is his father, Byleth doesn't attempt to slip away from him. Then, Claude's shoulder goes from eight inches to seven and a half inches away- towards Byleth's- and he thinks to himself, 'We've got a situation'. 

*

A knock raps on Byleth's bedroom door. In his free time, Byleth usually just stares at one particular corner of his room. Sometimes, he thinks he sees a young girl with bright green hair and a pout, but he hasn't mentioned anything about his imaginary friend since he was very young. 

In all reality, Byleth doesn't mention much of anything.

"Hope I'm not interrupting ya," Jeralt says at the entrance. He'd opened it up himself, the presumptuous man. For some reason, he always says that whenever he opens Byleth's door, but Byleth isn't sure what he'd be interrupting.

Byleth notices that his father is on the phone. "Uh, Claude wants to hang out with you at some sorta… theater place?” He turns his attention back to whoever’s on the other end. “No, no, Byleth can pay, no need for that- it's completely fine with me. Byleth's a grown man. I just wanted to make sure that it's what the kid wants. Byleth?"

He nods. Jeralt looks thrilled. 

*

Claude's more than happy to hold his hand, figuratively speaking, as he leads Byleth through a world that Jeralt had been meticulously keeping him hidden from. Byleth believes that woman- the one who offered his father the job- is to blame. At least partially. 

The modern world is full of wonders, Byleth has found. There's drink machines with light-up displays that one taps and holds to obtain their liquid of choice, for instance. There’s also ample bright lighting, geared to steal one’s attention. It gives Byleth somewhat of a headache. 

The other man isn't bad to be around. It's only the third time they've met, but Byleth feels almost at ease around him. The piece in his brain that refuses to let his muscles unstiff until it's late at night and he's shaking under his covers is barely there. Without it, Byleth almost feels he could even talk to Claude.

Claude's excited about the movie, and he seems to accept that Byleth doesn't get excited about anything. It isn't bad, watching it (some recent horror film that features gratuitous blood and a horrendous romantic subplot, all gleaned from the random glances shot towards the screen). Within the first few minutes, though, Byleth found the true joy in watching a movie with someone else. Claude's reactions are the real entertainment. He jumped when the murderer was on screen, and when the two protagonists had to jump out of an exploding car, he seemed genuinely scared. The end with the final jumpscare was the best- Claude yelped and clung onto the armrests, panting for breaths.

"Wow, that was great!" Claude exclaims once the movie's over, tossing the empty paper popcorn bag (he'd bought it for the both of them, but Byleth never actually ate any) into the trash. "Were you scared at all?"

Byleth wasn't, and he's pretty sure Claude knows that, too, but he nods anyway. Claude chuckles and continues to say, "Yeah. That villain reveal freaked me out."

*

Jeralt knows. He doesn't say anything about it outright, but sometimes, Byleth catches Jeralt quirking a wry grin at him and Claude interacting in the doorway before Claude would head off to his apartment, or at the two leaving together to do whatever plans Claude has set out. A wry grin and that fond look in his eyes, of something akin to pride and nostalgia.

Jeralt knows that Byleth is crushing on Claude.

*

The eighth time Byleth and Claude meets, some part of Claude’s composure slips. 

They're taking a walk in the park. It's a nice place, Byleth supposes, but he's never quite seen the appeal. Claude's eating some ice cream they'd just gotten from a vendor, and he'd even convinced Byleth to order something. The vanilla ice cream he'd ordered has already been consumed, though. 

"You got any dreams, Byleth? Things you want to accomplish?" Claude asks, flicking his fickle gaze to him.

It's a weird question. Byleth considers it, and ends up shaking his head. He doesn't have an answer.

"Well, uh, I've been thinking about it a lot," he pauses to crunch up the last of his ice cream cone, "And, well, I wanna do something about this world. It sucks." 

Byleth nods, encouraging him to continue. Claude, up to this point, has seemed to be fairly lax about affairs that don't directly affect him.

"Y'know what?" Claude pauses fully in their strolling, and turns to Byleth. His face is devoid of its usual laxness and he looks almost stressed- furrowed eyebrows and an unhappy smile. "I want to tear down these borders. Stop letting prejudice reign. I want us all to look at each other with the same openness that we look upon the night sky with. Crazy pipe dream, huh? It's just gonna be useless." 

His smile is tinged with an even more somber note, now. It seems- even to Byleth- fake.

It's admirable- the dream, that is. Byleth attempts to say so, but no words can come out, so he just looks at Claude with his most intense expression and hopes he understands.

"I guess I should stop being so hard on myself," he says, and they continue to walk.

It may not have been Byleth's intended meaning initially, but he finds himself agreeing.

*

Claude introduces him to his friend group. It’s a group of seemingly random people- a literal rainbow of hair colors and personalities. Byleth says nothing, perched on the end of the booth, next to a smiling Claude. Nobody seemed surprised at Byleth walking into the diner alongside their apparent leader.

"So, like, are you actually mute?" A pink-haired girl says, as soon as the introductions are over. Byleth has already forgotten everybody's names. 

"Hildaaaaaa, that's rude," Claude admonishes. But then he clarifies. "No. Don't be mean and push him into talking, though. If he wants to just nod and shake his head, let him."

Claude obviously cares, and the kindness in the gesture makes Byleth's breath catch for just a moment. Perhaps Claude really does return those feelings. He doesn't think anyone notices the weight that realization has on him.

*

Claude- and, by extension, the rest of the group (since they're around nineteen or twenty, Byleth assumes)- all seem to be busy with college during the week (and occasionally on the weekends even), so it's hard to plan the entire group assembling. Every week, though, Claude always calls his father to ask to hang out with Byleth. That's another way Jeralt knows, probably- nobody would be so insistent to see his son if there wasn't a romantic interest. 

Jeralt sits down with Byleth one night, after calling him into the living room. A black cardboard box sits in his left hand.

"Now, I know you've been getting pretty buddy buddy with that Claude fellow," Jeralt says. 

Please don't let it be the talk again. Byleth had to endure that about nine or ten years ago, and he has no intentions of ever repeating the experience. He nods in reply, back stiff in his chair like always. His father has long given up on making him relax.

The older man leans forwards. "Every week for the past two months, he calls me to plan when you two can be together. I was talkin' to Rhea about it- because I'm, quite frankly, sick of being the middleman here- and she suggested to let you get your own phone." He taps the box.

Byleth nods, maintaining eye contact. 

"So, we're gonna go and set you up a number. And then I'll tell Claude to stop bothering me." Jeralt's eyes glimmer with amusement, akin to his humoured tone of voice. He isn't really upset at his son having a friend- and perhaps something more- for the first time in his life.

Byleth nods again.

"What do you say?" His father asks. Like he's speaking to a child who doesn't know their manners. It sounds almost akin to a reflex, but Byleth decides to comply.

"Thank you." Byleth's words are clumsy and unfamiliar, and his voice sounds awful and cracked, but Jeralt seems pleased. It's not a sensation to be repeated, though. Byleth hates being forced to speak through the weight in his throat.

*

Byleth is in a diner- just Claude and him. It's the visit right after Byleth got his phone. Claude's fiddling with it, tapping in his phone number and flipping around and seeing what's on there. Byleth isn't sure what Claude's looking for.

"I don't suppose you'd have a Snap or Insta or anything, huh?" Claude says. He doesn't look up from Byleth's phone.

Byleth shakes his head, and sends a confused look towards Claude. What are those? But the other man is currently tousling his hair with Byleth's phone being held a bit above eye level, at arm’s length; more importantly, not looking at Byleth. It's a gesture Byleth has seen him do before, but he's never asked why. 

"Alrighty! Got a pic of me in there and everything. When I text or whatever, you'll know who it is." Claude smiles, glancing at Byleth. 

In response, he just nods. 

"Hey, you wanna take a selfie together?" Claude asks, grin erring on mischief. Byleth isn't quite sure what that is, but he nods anyway.

There's a sound of tapping- Claude's fingertips drumming against the table- before he clears his throat and asks, "Real quick, though, is it cool if I touch ya? I'll just put my arm around your shoulders. It's just for framing the photo. Don't want to make you uncomfortable, that's all."

Byleth nods, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically (when it comes to Claude, everything he does seems more charged and emotional), and Claude stands up from his seat across from him to his side of the booth, nudging his way in. Byleth shifts further in quickly, and Claude does exactly what he said he would. An arm is slung around Byleth's shoulders, and he's tucked into Claude's side, thigh to thigh, even though Byleth is taller. Not by much, in all reality. Claude again holds the phone up and mumbles, "Look into the camera- er, the dark circles near the top," and begins smiling again. Byleth obeys the order, and their picture is snapped quickly. 

"Hmm, I don't think I like the angle on my face, but you…" Claude makes a soft sigh. "You look so great! Look- is that, is that a smile? Your smile is so cute."

Byleth looks down at the photo on the phone. His own appearance looks slightly off, just a little different from the scant times Byleth bothers to look in a mirror, but Claude looks so handsome. The little braid on the one side, perfectly messed hair- maybe Byleth will print it out and frame it or something. Isn't that what one does with pictures? When Byleth was younger, Jeralt occasionally snapped photos of the two of them with a disposable camera, all compiled in an album. That was years ago, and the memories are all fuzzy.

"Oh, let's get you a Snapchat, yeah? Er, lemme explain real quick." Claude runs him through the application from where it's already set up on his own phone. The man has plenty of conversations going on- perhaps ten or twenty, even- all at once, and, to be honest, Byleth isn't sure he could keep up with that.

"And, yeah, don't worry, you'll see a lot of my beautiful face." Claude winks. Byleth's hesitation is transformed immediately into eagerness. Seeing Claude is always a treat.

It's a common theme for their encounters, come to think of it. Claude conniving Byleth into something he ends up loving- the ice cream in the park, various foods at Claude's favorite diner, the friend group (why they refer to themselves as the Golden Deer, Byleth is still unsure of). But Byleth still recognizes that none of those things would be half as wanted without Claude by his side.

Byleth ends up with an email address, a Snapchat ("If it's something you don't want your dad or whatever to see when they look through your phone," Claude said with a wink, "make sure to snap it to me instead of regular texting,"), and a vaguely threatening promise to teach him more social media platforms next. 

"Also, uh, tell the group that you have this stuff- at your own leisure, I mean. Of course, they'll respect your decision if you refuse, but maybe you should talk to us more than just once or twice a week. But take your time."

Throughout the entire conversation, from the first "selfie" of many onwards, Claude had been constantly touching him. Their thighs being pressed together (Claude forgot to move back across), Byleth's shoulder, their hands brushing. It was embarrassing, and yet, Byleth was enjoying all the attention.

*

Once he returned home, though, there was a hollow, empty feeling. It made his frown heavier than ever. 

I wonder if Claude gets this way, too? Claude's definitely infatuated with him back, yes, but does he feel like something's lacking without Byleth's presence? Byleth is always so invisible, though. Nobody notices if he's there or not most of the time. So, probably not.

A buzz emanates from his phone, and after Byleth calms down (he didn't know they could make noises like that!), he checks the thing. 

One of the bars across the middle of the display shows a "low battery" warning, which Byleth figures means to replace the battery, like in a radio, and decides to ask Jeralt later for spares. One of the other bars seems the most recent, though-

Claude, the first line reads, followed by a handful of tiny pictures of yellow parallelograms and red hearts. The next line states, how r u doin, but what is Claude trying to say? How is Byleth supposed to respond? 

There's only one way to figure this out. Byleth knocks on Jeralt's door. A light rapping. If his father is asleep, he shouldn't wake up from it, but it should still be enough to get his attention.

With a creak, the door opens. "Yeah? What's up, kid?" Jeralt asks, gruff as always.

Byleth simply hands over his phone, pointing at the two confusing notifications. It's taken, and Jeralt fumbles for his reading glasses, before peering down at the screen. 

"Oh, we didn't get you a charger?" Jeralt inquires. A slight shake of Byleth's head affirms his suspicion. Byleth isn't sure what that is, but, whatever it is, he doesn't have it. "Sorry. Uh, you've got a text from Claude."

Byleth nods, and stares at Jeralt. 

"Ah! You want my help in responding?" The old man asks, grinning.

Another nod.

"Well, when someone asks you how you're doing, usually you'll say something along the lines of 'I'm alright, how about you,' unless you aren't alright. Then you can tell them what's goin' on."

A third nod, but accompanied by a questioning gaze. Byleth, again, points at the message.

His father, as well, looks confused. "You know I'll support you, whatever gender you wanna go out with. But, uh, you usually want the conversation to develop some more before asking the person out, y'know?"

Byleth shakes his head, and points at the message, with just a touch of aggravation. 

"I'm sorry. Can't figure out what you're askin' for, kid."

After a quick clearing of his throat, Byleth mumbles, "He… I can't figure out what he's saying. Wh-why is he texting random letters?"

"Read 'em out loud." Jeralt's holding in laughter, and a distant sensation of embarrassment burns, but it's easily ignorable.

Jeralt knows (all too well) of his aversion to verbal communication, but Byleth complies anyway. "'How-are-you-doin'- oh. It's…"

"Took your old man a while to get, too!" Jeralt smiles at him. "Just shorthand. If you can't figure out what's being said, just try to say it out loud. And if you still can't, you can Google it or ask Claude."

Byleth attempts to smile as thanks, but his face is stiff as ever. He nods, then, and shuffles back to his room. Not before after a further explanation, though, this time about chargers.

*

Just text a reassurance, and then turn the question around. That's what Jeralt said to do.

*

In his room, Byleth sits on his bed and texts, 'I'm well. As to you?' 

About twenty seconds later, his phone buzzes again. 'u text like that??? hhhhhh u poor thing,' which is almost discernable, except for the six letter h's in the middle. It's mystifying. Along with the two extra question marks.

'Why did you put so many of the letter "h" in your message?'

Another message arrives, far quicker than Byleth himself can type. It reads, 'oh u sweet summer child lmaoooooo im gonna have to show u everything hhhhhh'- another bout of the h's, over usage of o's in that word he's never seen before, and why does he omit letters and apostrophes so much? Byleth finds himself typing in yet another inquiry about such, and before he knows it, Claude is giving him quite the thorough lesson on internet slang.

Once Byleth grows drowsy, though, he types, 'I'm afraid that I'm feeling tired.'

'u wanna talk tomorrow? also we need to plan our next meetup bro'- interesting note, while Byleth is thinking of it: 'bro' is a slang term for 'friend', not 'brother', which had Byleth incredibly confused at first. Why would someone be infatuated with whom they considered to be a sibling? 

'Yes.'

'night bro'

Byleth isn't sure how to respond, or even if he should, so he just shoves the phone (of which is on the charger, which works like any other corded device, except it's removable, which amazes Byleth) under his pillow, and gets up to shower.

*

Claude texts him frequently- multiple times a day frequently. It doesn't matter that Byleth usually gives monosyllabic replies, or takes hours to reply. There's this odd feeling, in fact, that Claude is just happy that someone enjoys his rambles about social media and various gossip and the frequent collaborations of them both. Maybe he's doubly happy that it's Byleth, listening and typing 'Hm.' over and over again after every four-part text.

*

Three and a half months in, Claude appears at his doorstep. 

There had been a text thirty seconds ago- 'come to ur door got a surprise for ya ;)', which left a ball of apprehension sinking in his stomach. Jeralt's out, which means there's no buffer whatsoever between Byleth and whatever Claude's trying to pull this time. Byleth enjoys the other man’s company greatly, yes; however, Byleth is always tentative around his schemes.

"Yo," he says simply. "Gonna let ya boy in?"

Byleth nods, before moving out of the way. Claude saunters in and shoots Byleth a grin. "You got some alcoholic beverages in here or what?" 

The door is shut, now, and locked sufficiently. He expects Claude to be staying for a while, even though he has no actual idea of how to entertain guests.

Out of Byleth's peripheral, he sees Claude plop down on the couch. "Yeah. I mean, I am twenty, so you don't want to feed me something illegal. I mean, you could always not be a pussy, but whatever. Water's cool too."

A quick glare is shot over to Claude. "What? Don't like being called a pussy?" 

This time, Byleth decides on no response, and trudges to his room to pick up his long coat. The weight makes him feel secure and less vulnerable. As much as he'd like to have Claude magically fix all of his sensory issues, in reality, he's going to need some sort of professional help. And help means admitting the problem, and it's a lot more convenient to pretend that everything is fine after all.

About halfway down the hall, he hears Claude's footsteps behind him. "Are you just gonna leave your guest by his lonesome?"

Byleth decides to not respond again, and heads into his room. It's barren- there's not even books on the bookshelves. The only thing out of place (or rather, the only thing that really shows any sign of this space being lived in) is the coat on the back of his closet door, of which is grabbed and strewn over his shoulders. 

"Yeah, I notice you always have that on," Claude says. He plops down on Byleth's bed, making it creak. "Wow! This thing sure beats my old mattress. So comfy."

The urge to banter back (like what Claude would do) fills his throat for a moment, but it's quickly quelled by the simple fact of not knowing what to say. So Byleth just stands there, back to the closet door, before Claude grins and says, "Sit with me!"

Byleth does as he is bidden. 

"Now, 'ole chum, 'ole buddy, 'ole pal, I kinda gotta tell you something." Claude's face straightens out into something more serious. Over time, Byleth had noticed that Claude usually jokes around more when he's nervous- or, like he did earlier, act like a bit of an ass, for lack of a better term. "I… I… kind of… am finding myself… Yeesh, this is tough."

Byleth's voice, rough and uncultured, tumbles out. He'd wanted to collect more data first, but he says, before even realizing it, "You are infatuated with me."

Claude winces a little and scratches at his stubble. "I was gonna go with something more… deep, but I guess that works too. Wait, how long have you known?"

He only gets a shrug in response. 

"Aw, you probably realized before I did. That's… embarrassing. But why didn't you say anything?"

Byleth's words come to him again, for once. "I'm unsure what to say."

"Like, you mean in general or in this particular subject?" Claude rubs at his elbow.

Now, though, Byleth's words fail, and he mouths the letters before shaking his head and holds up one finger.

"First one? Alright. Y'know, the main thing about conversation is practice. I mean, look at you now- you just responded to me! Twice! I'm really happy to hear your voice, Byleth."

A blush comes to stain Byleth's cheeks, and he turns to look out the window, then at the corner in his room. No time to think of Sothis, though; Claude's grabbed his chin to look him straight on. 

"You feel the same way, huh?" Claude murmurs. For some reason, it doesn’t feel like a question, though.

What is Byleth supposed to say? He blinks, and dives in to kiss Claude impulsively. 

The other man's hands shift to his jawline to tilt his head a tad more for easier access. Claude's lips feel soft under his own chapped ones, and Byleth lets his eyes close and just feel. 

*

Intimacy is something Byleth plans on getting used to; at least, around Claude. 

His kisses are chaste and sweet. There's more to this art, Byleth can tell, but they're both taking it easy and he appreciates that. It's a kindness that Byleth feels no urge to fight against.

*

"What are you two kids up to?" Jeralt asks, voice gruff. 

Byleth and Claude fly apart from each other, and while Claude stammers away, Byleth cringes into himself, face in his hands. Later, he'll recall in wonder about how long those emotions boiled in his stomach, as compared to when they'd usually disappear immediately, or never even emerge at all.

"Ah. Sorry to interrupt. You two are adults, do whatever ya want. Just, uh, be safe? And try not to do anything loud when I'm home. Hey, Byleth, do we need to have another talk?"

He frantically shakes his head no, hands still buried in his face. In front of him, Claude has stopped forming excuses, and instead began snickering. Byleth huffs a breath out in response.

"Uh, I'm gonna, uh, head out now. Like I said, stay safe. I'll break your face if you hurt my boy, Claude. You should be used to the parental threats by now, actually. Have fun." Jeralt walks out, closing the door behind him. 

Once the front door shuts, Byleth slowly removes his hands from his face and gazes at Claude. 

"Yeah. That just happened. I don't really know, either."

Byleth nods in return, and drops his gaze to his fingernails. They are all due for a trim; soon, they'll be at the proper length to pick at. Byleth hates the anxiety that swells up in him. It only happens when there's nothing else to feel.

"But, uh, now that that happened, we should probably, uh, discuss some things…" Claude trails off.

He gets another nod.

"Okay. That's the first thing. I'm usually okay with nods and shakes, but I want something more specific here- don't talk! You can just write things down or text them to my phone." Claude smiles.

Byleth pulls out the notepad application, and types, 'Alright. I do not quite comprehend why, though'.

"I just want to make absolutely sure I know exactly watcha want, okay?" Claude smiles. "By the way, nothing here is set in stone- tomorrow, if you decide you don't like kissing, we don't have to do it."

'A tad presumptuous there, Claude.'

"Did I misread things? I'd love to go out with you- but, uh, if you don't want to, I'll just, uh, leave." The man seems uncertain. 

Byleth shakes his head and types, 'No. I'd love to pursue a relationship with you, as well.'

"Alrighty. Let's just move on. So, yeah. I think I'm in love with you."

Byleth quirks an eyebrow.

"Sorry. I know. You… Lemme explain. Please. I love being around you- when your eyes light up, when you're looking at your phone and you bite your lip and you're all concentrated. When the corners of your mouth move up, even though it's only a little right now."

Face buried in his hands, Byleth feels his cheeks flaming.

"Right now, too. You're so cute. You wanna know what I want?"

Claude touches the bottom of Byleth's chin. After a jerky nod, he lifts it up and delicately removes Byleth's trembling hands. "I… I want to love you. I want to ravish (what a weird word for Claude to use, Byleth thinks absently) you as much as you want, and I want to cherish you. I want to make this a great world for you and I both."

Words, once again, fail Byleth, so he grabs Claude's hands and squeezes, eyes falling shut.

"You want it too?"

Yes! Byleth hopes his pleading gaze is answer enough. Just in case, though, he squeezes Claude's hands again, long and slow and sweet.

"Good. But, uh, I wanna make sure you're comfortable through all this, okay? So, we're gonna take things slow. Tell me if I make you uncomfortable, or whatever. I'll do the same, don't you worry."

Byleth nods.

"If, say, you don't like it if I touch your hand or whatever, just shake your head and I'll listen. Alright?"

He nods again. 

"I'll always make sure to listen."

*

"You remember when we took our first selfie together?" Claude asks, looking up at him.

Byleth nods, with slightly furrowed eyebrows.

"When I was looking at the picture, that's when I realized. When I saw your smile." 

*

Byleth isn't the greatest at relationships. He needs to be the best for Claude, but he just doesn't know how to. So, he needs to learn. 

Perhaps somebody more experienced may be able to help?

"Jer…" he whispers, stepping into the living room. 

His father looks up from whatever book he's reading on the sofa. It's getting dark, so Byleth strides over to turn on a light so Jeralt can see well.

"What's up, kid?" Jeralt seems slightly upset for a moment, and Byleth attributes it to him not calling him 'father' or a similar name. It's always been something Byleth had done- the man is his father, of course, but something in his head makes him overlook that most of the time. It's the same thing that makes his emotions greatly subdued, but Byleth doesn't care to know much more than that.

Phone in hand, Byleth types, 'Claude and I are in a relationship.' He turns the phone over to Jeralt.

"I figured. What's the issue?"

'I find myself at a loss as to how to act. I would prefer to keep him.'

"Heh… Y'know, I guess you don't quite know how to be romantic. Sorry 'bout that." Jeralt pauses for a moment, then continues. "Anyway, Byleth, you want my advice?"

A curt nod.

"'Kay, good. Was gonna give it to ya regardless, actually. So, uh, most important things in a relationship- ya want to be open to the other person, and you wanna make sure they know you care." There's a sense of finality in his father's words, and Byleth hopes he hasn't opened an old wound concerning his late mother by accident.

Byleth nods again, grabs his phone, and leaves the room.

Well, that felt like a waste of time. If I'd wanted to know that, I could've just followed Claude's lead.

*

But then, later in his room, an idea.

I've Googled many inquiries in times previous- why not see what it has to say about my current predicament?

*

Byleth has had his own bank account for quite a while, but there's never really been a need to access the funds beyond paying for himself whenever the group (or just he and Claude) would meet up. However, his current plan calls to learn from others with more experience, and in his years of homeschooling, Byleth has developed quite the penchant for book learning. 

There's only the faintest glimmer of embarrassment as he checks out the five highest rated gay male romance novels on his little-used Amazon account. For research.

*

'u wanna go on a date bby ;)?'

'Yes. Sounds delightful, Claude.'

'fjfhfjfjfj bro u dont have to type out my name god ily'

'anyway where u wanna go'

'To be honest, you're usually better at picking out spots for us to rendezvous. Do you mind if I leave it in your capable hands?'

'sure lol'

'wanna come over to my place? we can do a movie and takeout uwuuuuu'

And the conversation continued.

When Byleth Googled what 'ily' means, once the conversation had ended, an almost uncontrollable urge to squeal into his pillow overtook him, but just for a moment. That odd power in his heart- a voice saying control yourself- stifled any joy rather speedily when Claude wasn't directly there.

*

The books come in the mail.

Byleth hasn't done any actual fiction reading in a very long time- not since the early days of homeschooling. Back when Jeralt used to throw everything at the wall to get Byleth to feel something. 

Well, Byleth was certainly feeling things now, with Claude. And doubly so, reading those books- they aren't quite what he had expected. In retrospect, he should have definitely Googled what 'smut' means. 

On their own, the books wouldn't have done anything in particular. But, reading the main hero- a blue-haired prince- getting kissed up his neck and then lower by his loyal tactician in the middle of a war, knowing each day could be their last together; it's hard not to imagine him and Claude, instead.

Claude would look so handsome, riding a dragon (wait, wyvern), or maybe riding him. The sweat glistening off his skin, soft pants and moans.

*

(He'd probably go, "Now, Teach,") wait, where did that come from? ("these walls echo. We can't be too loud."

And then, he'd lean down to kiss Byleth. One of those open-mouthed ones, with tongue and saliva. Against his lips, he'd murmur, "Professor… I'm quite enjoying this lesson."

"Tomorrow, we have to march onwards, to the Imperial Capital, but tonight, we become one."

And the air would fill with their gasps.)

*

That's what the books say, anyway. 

*

"Hey hey hey!" Claude greets. "Glad ya didn't get lost." 

It's Friday, in Claude's apartment. Their first date night. There's some sort of irony in Claude taking him out publicly when they were still "just" friends and their first date being a simple stay-at-home affair, but Byleth doesn't really want to look too deep. Especially with those romance novels. While Byleth highly doubts sex will occur on the first date, the fact that it's just the two of them still makes him a little uneasy. Not in a bad way, though; maybe uneasy is the wrong word. He looks forward to the two of them getting closer.

But, if it isn't unease, then what is boiling in his gut? Anticipation?

"Hey, you wanna sit down?" Claude asks, gesturing to the couch. 

Byleth nods, and sits down. His knees shake a little beneath his loose pants, and he rubs the pad of his thumb on the sleeve of his coat repeatedly. The distinct sensation of tiny, tiny splinters stuck into the pads of his fingers make his arms feel weak, but the feeling is put away as 'just another facet of his anxiety'. His nails are too short to pick at or with.

"So, uh, you want anything to drink? I've got water, Coke, milk? Uh, what else…"

Byleth holds up two fingers- it has been years since he's tried soda- but, like in the diner a while back, Claude isn't looking at him. He tries to speak, but the words aren't getting out of his throat. Embarrassingly enough, a weird strangled sound comes out instead.

"What was that? Byleth? You okay?" Claude jerks his head up. "God, you scared me. What was that?"

A shrug, and again, Byleth holds up two fingers. 

"Guess we're gonna ignore that, then… Coke? Okay. I'm kinda curious, though- have you ever had Coke before?" Claude asks, pouring them both a glass. "Well, guess it doesn't matter. You want ice?"

This time, Byleth shakes his head.

"Alrighty." He hears some clattering in the kitchen that is quickly identified as ice cubes dropping into a glass, and Claude approaches.

Byleth is handed one of the glasses, and takes a sip. His senses are overwhelmed by the carbonated mixture, and he begins to cough wildly. Claude, while attempting to hide his chuckles, races over to say, "Are you okay?"

Byleth's eyes are cloudy, obscured, by something wet. It's an unfamiliar feeling- maybe it last happened when he accidentally poked himself in the eye? Regardless, it takes a few moments to register tears racing down his face. The soda is very strong to him.

"Ahhh… I'm sorry… I should've warned you or something." Claude gets up to rub Byleth's back some, until the coughs subside. It feels surprisingly pleasant. "You doing better? Uh, lemme get you a tissue."

Byleth nods, and once the tissue is given, he rubs it into the corners of his eyes roughly. The whole ordeal has been embarrassing- a lingering embarrassment, to be precise, not like the previous flashes he usually gets- and Byleth just wants to get onwards, to whatever Claude has planned.

"Woah, you gotta be more gentle then that- let me," the other man whispers. He's a lot closer than what Byleth had previously thought, and the tissue is deftly plucked out of his hands. A second later, the corners of his eyes are being dabbed at, gentle as can be.

"I guess it did choke you up a bit, but… I don't suppose you usually cry this much, huh? Or at all, really."

An attempt to shake his head just leads into Claude holding his chin and muttering, "I don't want to be the one poking your eye out, so you gotta stay still." The chin-holding feels akin to when they kissed earlier in the week, and it's another pleasant sensation. 

Just when Claude's proximity begins to cross into the overbearing territory, though, he backs off. "I'm gonna go get you a damp washcloth, okay? Your eyes look a little swollen, and it'll help cool everything down." Claude's smile is sweet, and once Byleth regains composure, he'd love to kiss it.

All the emotions in his chest remain, which is quite the odd sensation. Yet, a welcome one. It feels warm. Like Claude's skin.

This time, Claude doesn't even bother with giving Byleth the washcloth, and once the redness from his eyes is gone, Claude gives him a small peck, right on the lips.

*

The movie they watch together is uneventful. Byleth's never been a fan of fiction, especially with these horror films that Claude is so fond of.

Byleth is, however, a fan of watching Claude yammer excitedly about it. He looks so excited about whatever's onscreen, and he talks so much that Byleth is easily able to formulate enough opinions to both delight and challenge him through a combination of mumbles and hastily typed sentences into the handy notepad application.

Something else that Byleth is an even bigger fan of is Claude tangling their legs together halfway through. 

*

That night, in his room, he finds himself, guiltily, stroking himself. The smallest of things- a sliver of belly where Claude had stretched, the frequent winks, quick kisses- fill his mind. The drag of his palm against his erection, since he's too nervous to buy lube (and he's never really felt the urge to even masturbate before now), burns. But it feels kind of pleasant in its own way, one that Byleth certainly does not want to analyze.

His embarrassment after he orgasms dissipates quickly, but the guilt- how will I face Claude? How can I look him in the eye after… that?- remains.

*

Their next date, Byleth finds himself a little more withdrawn, and Claude picks up on it quickly. 

"Babe, what's the matter?" Claude whispers as they head home, rubbing Byleth's arm with his free hand. His other is occupied by Byleth's hand.

What else is there to do but shrug? 

"You in a weird mood? That's alright. Sometimes, after a particularly wild party, I get kinda quiet too."

When they reach Claude's apartment door, he practically jumps on Byleth, hooks his arms around his neck, and kisses him. Long and slow. It's incredible, and Byleth does everything he can to reciprocate effectively. 

"Damn. When's the next date?" Claude asks, winking. He must've done a good job, then.

*

Sometimes, Byleth wonders about himself. 

More specifically, Sothis. She's that girl he sees, elven ears and asleep nearly all the time. What is she doing here- in his brain? Somehow, Sothis seems linked to him. If he were a less passive person, Byleth thinks that he'd accuse her of his general lack of feeling. When he was young, she would only disappear when he's around people. A small leftover from those days is the anxiety that emerges without her presence. 

He hasn’t actually seen her in a while, though. A month or so before he and Claude met for the first time, in that dark alley in Remire. It had felt like something was really wrong without her, until Claude came. Now, being with him… everything feels just a little more alright. 

There still feels like something’s off, though. Like there’s one more piece that needs to fall into place.

Sometimes, Byleth wonders if he should tell Claude about the missing part of himself.

*

One day, they're eating dinner together, at Byleth's home. He has cooked a surprisingly well-received meal; at least, Claude seems to absolutely love it. 

"God, Byleth, babe, why'd you never tell me that you can cook? I was so sick of take-out for so long!" Claude's tone is incredulous, but underlying that, his affection shines through. The feeling of being wanted makes his chest feel warm, like it always is around the other man, except even more intense.

It's a simple dinner- just some fish tossed into a pan, with some green vegetables on the side- so Byleth isn't quite sure what Claude's all excited about. He chews thoughtfully on a piece of fish.

Distantly, the sound of the front door opening echoes into the kitchen, and Jeralt steps into the kitchen. "Smells damn good, kid," he mutters. It seems he hasn't even noticed Claude in his one-track quest to obtain nourishment.

"Hello, Byleth's dad!" Claude chimes, smirking. In the times he and Jeralt had met previous, it was made resoundingly clear that Jeralt hated being referred to by anything other than his first name. Claude, being Claude, makes sure to call him whatever will annoy him best.

Byleth hides his flicker of a smile behind a quick drought of water.

"Oh! Damn, Claude, didn't notice ya there. You two on a date?" Jeralt asks. His hands hesitate over the pan with fish in it. "I just thought that Byleth got hungry and cooked for the both of us."

Byleth shakes his head, and Claude clarifies, "Nah, we're just hanging out. You can have the rest if you want to, Byleth's dad!"

"Just call me Jeralt, goddamnit!" His father growls, humoured glint in his eyes. He piles food onto his plate quickly, and his eyes flick around the table. "Hmph. We don't have three chairs. I'll have to pick up another sometime, then. I'm gonna go eat in the living room, boys." 

"Okay!" Once Jeralt had left, Claude sticks another forkful in his mouth. "Oh, Byleth. I keep on forgetting! We have to get you a Discord account sometime, just so you can keep up with the group stuff."

Byleth cocks his head a little.

"It's a, uh, messaging app. Haven't I mentioned it before? But it's god-tier. Absolutely amazing. Oh, God, I sound like I’m shilling or something. But, lemme tell ya- going from Skype to Discord?" He makes an overexaggerated moan.

Eyebrows furrowed, Byleth crunches some asparagus. Then his eyebrows furrow further at the fact that the asparagus crunched. That's not the correct texture. Where did he go wrong cooking it? 

"But, uh, you can just lurk, and type in messages only whenever you feel like it. No pressure!" Claude raises his hands in a placating gesture. 

Byleth lets out a hmph, akin to the one Jeralt let out earlier. 

"We can always hang on a bit longer, anyway. I'm just surprised you even agreed to an Insta."

The conversation lulls, and Byleth notices Claude makes quick work of his plate, while Byleth takes his time. Maybe Claude really does like it. Byleth had felt nervous about it, but maybe he should cook for them more?

"God, the food was great! Please, please, please cook for me more? I'll buy you whatever you need!" Claude cries, eyes beseeching.

He'll definitely do so, then- the praise lights up something in his brain.

Byleth, after scooping up their plates to place in the dishwasher (a still-new novelty, in all honesty), attempts to let out a 'maybe', but it doesn't come. So he just smiles instead.

"Hey, can I help you with clean-up at all?" Claude asks, rising to approach. "Like, rinse things off or whatever?"

Byleth shakes his head and points to the vacated chair. "Fine, fine," Claude mutters. "Jerk."

A small pause. Byleth, while waiting for the leftovers to cool (that time the hot food cracked one of their glass storage containers in the fridge had been a mistake Byleth does not want to repeat), has finished rinsing the dishes. He's just begun loading them in when Claude says,

"But yeah, so, have I told you about what Hilda told me?"

Another shake confirming the negative. His vision swims for a moment, but that's quickly dismissed.

"Alright, so, you aren't gonna believe this. But, apparently, Leonie's been pretty into me for a while! Doesn't it make you jealous? Maybe your handsome boyfriend will get swept away by a girl attempting to grow out a pixie cut?"

Byleth lets out a few puffs of laughter. He turns to Claude and wildly shakes his head, immediately regretting it when his vision blurs again. But this isn't the time for a fainting spell, so Byleth, again, ignores it.

"Oh my god- you aren't?"

In between chuckles, Byleth somehow lets out, "No… way."

"No way for you to be jealous? Or no way for her to date me?"

Byleth holds up two fingers quickly, loading in the last of the dishes. Some all-too familiar dark spots are clouding his vision when he bends over, but maybe they'll go away quickly. Or maybe Byleth should hurry in cleaning up.

"How come?" Claude seems a little confused. 

Byleth tucks the extra food in the refrigerator, and holds the handle for support. The world feels kind of shaky, and even blurrier than before. A familiar darkness is overtaking his vision fully. But, before he passes out, he hears,

"Hey, Byleth, you doin' okay? Byleth?!" 

*

He's looking up at the kitchen ceiling. He doesn't remember how he got on the floor. 

Claude's head and upper body is on his chest, ear pressed to the left side. For some reason, the other man is almost hyperventilating, repeating a steady stream of 'ohmygod'.

"J-Jeralt? I think I killed Byleth!" He calls.

Once again, Byleth attempts to make his mouth move, and once again, his vocal chords just aren't working. There's some stomping and a pair of shoes appears in his peripheral, followed by Jeralt's panicked expression, but Byleth finds himself nodding off again. The blurriness and ensuing darkness are sweeping him under.

"Jeralt! Oh my God, Jeralt- he, he doesn't have a heartbeat! He- what's going on?!"

*

There's something warm next to him, on him. It feels like a body. 

Byleth opens his eyes to see Claude curled up, pretty much on top of him, soft breaths against his neck. They're both on Byleth's bed, the covers over them. It isn't an awful sensation. It's actually quite comforting, but there's just one issue- 

How did I get here?

When he was younger, he had plenty of fainting spells. Jeralt would take him to the doctors, but they'd just spout something about nutrition and water and send them on their way. For a while, actually, Jeralt didn't think Byleth experienced hunger or thirst. According to him, Byleth as a baby was an absolute chore to feed. Not because of him being fussy; no, it was the opposite. Jeralt never knew when Byleth was hungry. Byleth supposes it was just child him being unsure of how to get Jeralt's attention.

But, nowadays, they're far more rare, like the lapses in his memory. Ever since Sothis had emerged. 

There's a stir in Claude's unconscious body, and one eye looks, blearily, up at Byleth. The man seems surprised and scrambles to get up. 

"Ohmygod… Byleth, I was so convinced you had died, or was, like, in a coma…" Claude attacks him with a hug and nuzzles into his neck. Usually, Claude asks permission, but Byleth thinks the assumption is he'll push Claude off if it's too much. Claude's said as much in the past, repeatedly. 

"It happens," Byleth whispers. "I'm sorry."

He has no time to feel excited about his voice working again, because Claude asks, "Why didn't you tell me before you have lots of fainting spells? Or that you didn't have a heartbeat? Those are serious medical problems, babe. What if Jeralt wasn't there? What if we were out in public?"

Byleth shrugs. 

"You need to type up something like, 'FYI I don't have a heartbeat and I get frequent fainting episodes lol' to whoever you're with so people will know. Or, like, have a document or something on you so that if you faint in public, authorities can go 'oh he had an implant, everything's fine!'" 

Claude seems angry, but not really at Byleth. It's more akin to forceful concern, on reconsideration, actually, and Byleth can't say he hates it. Jeralt's always been rather hands-off, and there's been nobody else for a long, long time (probably ever, in all honesty), so Claude's own version of love is both overwhelming in a way and surprisingly welcome. 

"I'm sorry…" Byleth whispers again.

"Hey, babe, don't be sorry. You just never thought about it before, that's all. I'm sorry for freaking out." Claude begins to scoot away, but Byleth finds one of his arms snake around Claude's waist, in a loose hold. 

"I don't mind if you don't," he whispers softly. Claude nods and returns to his earlier position.

"You like this touchy stuff? Didn't peg you for the type, Byleth. But that's fine." 

A slight blush and a nod. 

"It's all fine, babe."

*

Some time after, they are in Claude's favorite diner. It's nighttime, and the two of them are piled together into one booth, side by side. Their usual booth (round, and enough to seat at least ten) is in the back, far away from prying eyes. 

At first, Byleth had been rather confused about the apparent need for privacy in group affairs. However, after Claude brought in a detailed, hand-drawn map of the city to begin to explain to the Golden Deer whatever plot he's onto now, he understood quickly. Well, understood enough. The rivalry between he and the two others he rescued when they first met still goes completely over his head, but with Claude, he's learned when to question things. 

The point is, he's a private man- whether the entire group is there or not.

"Hey, babe, you know what French kissing is?" Claude murmurs, looking back over the tall top of the booth at the near-empty diner behind them.

Byleth nods, hesitant. 

"You wanna try it?" Is whispered in Byleth's ear.

Another nod. More certain.

Claude cups his jaw and tilts it just so to connect their lips. They move against each other a few times, protected from prying eyes, and then Claude's tongue strokes over Byleth's lips. He opens them, and Claude plunges right in- stroking over his front teeth just a tad, tangling in his tongue. 

Encouraged by the playfulness, Byleth pokes around a little in turn. Claude kind of tastes like the burger he'd ordered earlier, but there's something pleasant underneath. A feeling of boldness wells up, and he catches Claude's tongue in between his teeth, gently. Once released, Claude begins to pull away, panting softly. 

Another bold streak overtakes Byleth, and he sucks and nibbles a tad on Claude's bottom lip as they seperate. He needs to breath, yes, but the sound of Claude groaning on his next exhale is well worth it all.

"Fuck, babe, where'd ya learn to do that?" Claude asks. His pupils are larger than normal, considering the bright overhead light, and his lips look red. For his talk from when he confessed, Claude ended up being the first one to be ravished.

*

Later that night, Byleth finds his dick rising just thinking about how wrecked Claude looked. The need can't be ignored, so Byleth licks his palm to reduce the heavy friction his calloused hands provide, and sets off to work.

He's long past embarrassment thinking about the other man in such uncouth ways, but he's still too tentative about broaching the subject fully.

*

Claude isn't able to make it for his group's meet up this week. It's nerve-racking, being there without the other man, but Byleth thinks he can manage. The Golden Deer are nice people- maybe a little bit quirky, but he can manage.

(Once, Byleth described Hilda as 'quirky', and Claude had burst out laughing and said, "I love you so much but please never use that word again." Byleth has a feeling it's one of those memes- the oddly edited pictures or words- that Claude enjoys and quotes so much.)

Byleth walks the couple blocks down to the diner, and upon walking in he can already hear the uproar coming from their favorite booth in the back (where Byleth had first french kissed the living daylights out of Claude the other week). He finds a seat on the edge of the circular-shaped booth easily.

"Hey, Byleth!" Hilda calls, dragging out the 'ey' sound in a trill. "To be honest, I'd thought you wouldn't come without your boyfriend."

Ignatz, next to her, nods. "Yeah. Well, I'm glad to be surprised! Guess you really are a member of the Golden Deer."

"Alright! Only me, Ignatz, Raphael, 'n Lorenz are actually able to make it today, unfortunately," Hilda says. "So we're just waiting on those two now." She begins tapping at something on her phone. Her artificially elongated nails sounds like plastic soles clicking against a hard floor. How could she stand something like that? It must hamper her dexterity and hearing alike.

"Hello, Ignatz- and Hilda, darling!" Lorenz greets. He attempts to slide in next to Hilda, but she crawls over Ignatz's lap and drags him along to box her in between him and Byleth. 

Lorenz smiles. He doesn't really look miffed, Byleth notes; in fact, he probably expected it. "Ah, so cruel. Oh, Byleth, a pleasant surprise."

"Somebody will have to continue searching for a mate elsewhere," Hilda mutters. 

"So, who are we missing?" Lorenz asks, leaning on his palm. Since he and Byleth had met, he'd begun growing out his purple hair, and now it's brushing his chin. Along with the update to his bangs, the man really has been looking better. Not quite good, but definitely better than before.

Ignatz, too, has been growing out his hair; with his new look, he looks a little less like a, frankly speaking, ugly geek and more like a regular introvert. Hilda looks the same as ever, except her hair's being put up into many different hairstyles. Today, it's low twin braids. 

Raphael approaches and plops down, saying, "Hey, guys. Wanna eat?" The large man looks the most similar to when they first met- just the slightest curls near the nape of his neck, and maybe a little bit more trim figure. 

Around the table comes cheers of agreement, and the waitress (who’s rather seasoned at dealing with the Golden Deer) comes by to take their orders. She already knows that they're ready to order once Raphael comes in. 

Once she's left, Hilda shushes all other conversation.

"I wish Lysithea and Marianne and Leonie could've made it, but oh well. Anyway, this is important. Claude's been too passive in regards to the other squads."

"Yes," Ignatz nods. "Sylvain in Art Appreciation was talking about something big that Blue Lions are pulling."

"Aren't you two buddies?" Lorenz asks. "Seems suspicious to me."

Ignatz stammers. "We- we talk sometimes."

"Like I said: suspicious. Anyway. What are they planning?"

"Apparently, there's some bad blood between them and Black Eagles. Like, Bernadetta was mad at him. She almost stabbed him with one of her embroidery needles before coming to her senses and running!"

After a round of laughter, Byleth finds the voice to ask, "'Almost stab'? She came close to doing it?"

"Nah," Ignatz shakes his head. "Sylvain dodged it by an inch. She punched him good- right in the stomach- though. He got knocked into the wall and was seriously winded, and then she ran away and sobbed in the bathroom for an hour."

A few more chuckles, then Lorenz asks, "Didn't Sylvain report it?" 

Ignatz looks serious, all of a sudden. "We all know Bernadetta. She would not do something like that without good reason- or, at the very least, a lot of emotions garnering it. If he reports her, then there's a huge chance she'll spill what happened between the two houses, and I've got a feeling they did something worse to Black Eagles then an attempted stabbing with a needle."

"So, Sylvain… isn't directly to blame?" Byleth asks, softly.

"Yeah. He just got swept up into something bigger, probably. Thing is, we don't really know." Ignatz says.

"Y'know, Raphael has been pretty quiet," Hilda says. 

"Just listening. I'm all outta energy to talk- I gotta refuel!" He shouts, pumping a fist in the air.

*

A few weeks later, Byleth and Claude are splayed out on Byleth's bed, when Byleth remembers to ask about the rivalry. 

"Oh, between our squads? Well, it's weird. It all started in high school, where we kinda had our own groups? Then a prank war started. You can guess who won that." Claude winks.

"But no, uh, what made it really competitive was you, actually, babe. You saved us three- me, Dimitri, and Edelgard- and, well, they both also wanted you to join up with them. You have that weird magnetism, I guess. You kinda… Feel like home." He seems confused for a moment.

"And they're jealous that I didn't want to join up with them?" Byleth asks. His voice is a little more monotonous then expected, but Claude always seems happy that Byleth just feels confident enough to talk.

Claude nods. "Yeah. Pretty much. But, uh, from what I've heard… Recently, Dimitri did some digging where he shouldn't. About Edelgard. And now her whole squad's pissed off, because what happened there could very well remove most of their parents from power."

"Wh-what did they do? What could they have done to her?"

Claude brushes his fingers through Byleth's bangs. "Babe, I don't know. I think that Lysithea has the most information, but, to be honest… I don't want to know. I don't want to be involved. This isn't a prank war. This could cost a lot of people their livelihoods."

Byleth nods.

"Hey, babe, that was kinda dark. Wanna talk about something else?" Claude's brown eyes hold serenity. 

Another nod. 

"Alrighty. Now, I'm thinking about getting a bearded dragon. My grandfather's agreed to send me money- like, a lot of money- for school, and I think I'll be able to afford tuition, rent, and food with some left over!" Claude sounds so excited.

Byleth finds his hand and squeezes it, smiling. It's nice to see Claude thrilled.

Claude hums, "I think I'm gonna ask around and see if anyone needs a certain dashing young man to take care of one."

"Mm. You are very handsome, Claude." His voice almost shuts down halfway through, but Byleth manages to get out the final couple words.

"Oh, you are just begging for me to kiss you senseless, huh." Claude leans in, and Byleth tilts his head a little and meets his lips, rubbing his neck. Their fingers remain intertwined. 

After a few minutes of making out, Claude separates to say, "Byleth, babe, you're so hot. I…" He seems kind of embarrassed, and more flushed than usual. 

It only takes a second for Byleth to realize that Claude's hard. On his bed. But they'd only kissed for a few minutes; it shouldn't take that long to illicit a response like that.

"I can leave-" Byleth's hand grabs on a little tighter to his. "Alright. I'll stay. You, uh… if you want, you can do something, but there's no pressure or anything…" 

Byleth touches Claude's thighs with both his hands. "Yeah, you can do whatever you like, babe." With that permission, Byleth runs his hands up them slowly. Claude tips his head back. "Fuck, don't be a tease. I mean, unless you wanna take it slow..."

The words make an intense heat coil in Byleth's gut, and his dick seems to be gaining interest. Claude losing himself for even a moment feels almost like a win. His hands hesitate over Claude's fly, though.

"Babe, what's wrong? Continue, God." Claude murmurs.

A distressed sound emerges, and Claude understands immediately. "Oh, you're clueless. God, that's cute." Claude refocuses on Byleth, slouching a little on his headboard. "If you want, I can tell you what to do? You won't have to guess. Mm, sounds good?"

Byleth nods vigorously. 

"Alright. Do you have lube in here?" A shake confirms the negative. "Okay. Uh, lotion? Anything? Oh, wait- check my bag. God, I'm glad I'm hopeful." 

After rummaging through a few pockets, Byleth locates and palms a smallish bottle of lube. 

"Babe, you payin' attention? Good. C'mere," he says, voice a little rough. It sounds so delicious, and it, along with the reassuring words, warms Byleth's guts even more, twists them into a pit of arousal. 

When Byleth returns, he sees that Claude's shucked off his pants and underwear, along with his shirt. His half-lidded gaze is so inviting that Byleth can't resist drawing closer.

"Good boy," Claude says. It makes Byleth groan before he really realizes how much it hit him. It's audible enough to make Claude hear, too, judging from the way his eyes widen a little.

Byleth sits back in front of Claude. He presses his thighs together in hopes of hiding his erection, and leans forward. Again, his hands hover over Claude's spread legs, his hard cock. 

"Put some lube on your hands, babe. Actually- let me." Claude plucks the lubricant bottle and pour some over Byleth's fingers. "Mm, now touch me. Have you jacked off before?"

Byleth nods, and begins stroking, gentle as can be with his precious Claude. He leans in to place kisses along his collarbone.

"You can get a bit rougher, babe. Ah, that's feelin' good. Good job. You've got a praise kink, hm?"

The words make Byleth blush furiously, and he sucks at a spot on Claude's neck in retaliation. But revenge isn't had since Claude only lets out a soft groan. "You wanna speed up?"

Byleth does so, and, before long, Claude's collar and neck are covered in red marks and his dick is leaking. It's a great visage, and the only thing that could make it better are the constant ah ah ah's that tumble out of Claude's mouth, along with his assorted praise. 

"Hey, babe, I'm about to come," Claude whines. Byleth only speeds up, and Claude's sounds, in turn, pick up more and more. 

And then, after a low utter of Byleth's name, Claude comes onto Byleth's hand. 

Claude pants harshly in the afterglow, and Byleth wonders, what would happen if I kept going? So, he continues moving his hand, up and down the shaft, paying special attention to the head and slit with his thumb on the upstroke while Claude whines and pushes weakly. 

"Babe, ah, I love you," he finally makes out, "But I'm too sensitive, God, please, let up."

Byleth does, and listens to his breathing and heartbeat for a while longer.

"Fuuuuuck, that was amazing, love," Claude says. He looks exhausted, and his eyes slip close. 

Once he's asleep, Byleth takes out his own dick carefully, and works himself over with a combination of leftover lube and Claude's cum. It's impossibly hot.

What would it feel like for Claude to do the same back? Or even to go further?

*

"Aren't you happy," Jeralt says. Byleth had cooked for the two of them, and they're currently eating at the little kitchen table. 

Byleth looks at him inquisitively.

"I know we haven't had a good opportunity to talk for a while, but… hm… Did you and Claude finally go further?"

Byleth chokes on his meatloaf.

"Haha! Sorry to tease ya, kid. It's just… well, y'know. As your father, it's a requirement. I'm glad you're happy, though."

A nod.

"I should've done this a lot earlier, but… Here." He fishes out something from his pocket, and places it on the table. "That's your mother's ring. If you're ready to marry Claude, or anyone else… It'll be in my room. Don't… don't rush into things, though, Byleth. Your mother and I were very happy together, but plenty of people aren't. I want you to be careful."

Byleth nods again.

"You're my world, kid. I'm always here for you." His father grins up at him, replacing the ring back into his pocket. 

"Th-thank you…" 

"You ain't gotta say nothing, Byleth. I know."

Tears well up, unbidden. But they disappear in the next blink, and Byleth continues eating. 

*

Things are absolutely amazing between he and Claude.

But.

One day, one of the worst case scenarios possible took place. 

*

The two of them are relaxing on Byleth's bed. It's summer break, but instead of going back to his family, Claude chooses to stay in town, with Byleth.

"Ooh, look at this guy!" Claude's showing him various reptiles. "He's a bearded dragon- like the one I want. Isn't he adorable?" 

Byleth nods.

"You liked the turtle more, huh?"

Byleth shrugs and smiles a tad. 

"No taste, I swear," Claude sighs heavily, throwing both his hands up. Including the one with his phone. The phone goes flying, clanging off of the wall to slide underneath Byleth's bed.

"Oh, shit. Lemme grab it real quick. Please don't be broken, please don't be broken, please..." Claude mumbles, leaning down.

Wait. The sex books. Byleth attempts to push Claude back and recover the phone himself, but he's unsuccessful. "I can grab it! Don't worry." Claude begins feeling up underneath, his hand making tapping noises on the hardwood floor. 

Byleth watches in horror as Claude's face turns to surprise. "Oh, my, what's this?" He pulls out a stack of three books, knocking over a few others in the process. "'His Blazing Sword'? 'Radiant Dong'? Ooh, spicy- 'Gaywakening'? God, that's so cheesy." Claude has the exact same expression as the image he sends constantly of a smug cat with a knife to its face.

Without thinking, Byleth lunges for Claude, knocking the books out of his arms and onto the floor. With the man pinned down, Byleth levels his best glare down, but he has a feeling that his flushed cheeks take away from the intimation he's intending.

"I'm sorry, babe. I shouldn't have teased you about that. Hey, you wanna get up so I can grab my phone? I won't mention it ever again, promise." Claude seems serious. 

For some reason, though, Byleth doesn't move. His glare and blush subside, but there's never quite been an opportunity to just look at Claude, and have him look back with no distractions. 

"Babe, you should get off." Claude tries to tug his hands free from Byleth’s grip around his wrists. "It's, uh, a little weird. Unless you're into this? But I'd prefer to talk about it first, if that's the case."

Byleth finally moves off, a few beats later. Claude sits up, moves the books back under the bed, and grabs his phone. 

"I'm sorry," Byleth mumbles once Claude moves back next to him. "I… zoned out."

"Yeah. It was kinda freaky, to be honest. Your glare wasn't half as scary as that pure intensity!"

"I'm sorry."

"I got that, babe. I forgive you. Just, uh, let's discuss doing that beforehand next time."

Byleth curls into himself, into a little ball. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, you're fine! Things happen. It's all better now."

He doesn't say anything else, but he brings his hands into his lap to pick at the cuticles. Byleth needs to trim his nails again, but it's weird to do that with someone else in the room.

"Babe… Can I give you a hug?" Claude asks. 

After a nod, Claude tucks him into his chest. Byleth's notices, absently, that the man has certainly bulked up some from since when they first met. 

"I didn't mean to freak you out, babe. You're fine. It's alright."

Eventually, Byleth is moved to lay partially on Claude's legs and lap, and Claude browses whatever app he's on now. The proximity makes the feeling of bad wrong bad wrong that coiled up in his stomach go away, eventually. Byleth stares in the corner where Sothis should be. He hasn't felt her in quite a while, and she's never even appeared in this room before, but somehow he still knows. 

"Whatcha thinkin' about, love?" Claude asks. It's not really a question, just a hum as Claude brushes his fingers through Byleth's dark teal locks. 

Byleth isn't thinking about anything at all. Everything fell away as soon as Claude began caressing him.

*

"You can't scare me off that easily, Byleth," Claude murmurs, the next time they get together. He bumps their hips. A saucy wink follows.

*

His father comes by Byleth's door one evening. 

"Hey, kid," he greets. "How are you doin'?"

Byleth shrugs. 

"Should had expected as much," Jeralt says. "Anyway, uh, Rhea and I have been talking. When you're not out with Claude 'n his group, you're just sitting around here." 

Byleth nods. What is Jeralt's goal?

"God, you don't have any books on your shelves- what do you do in here?" 

Another shrug. When Byleth was younger, he heard Jeralt panicking to one of his friends about Byleth's imaginary friend, and how concerned he was. After that, he's known better than to bring her up.

"Whatever. Anyway. So, what if… What if you became my teacher's assistant once the main school year starts up again?"

Byleth considers it. Jeralt teaches, well, something about history and wars, and Byleth has picked up bits and pieces throughout the years. He wouldn't be completely out of his depth.

"Take your time, Byleth. Although… Y'know, Claude goes to the same university, along with the rest of his group."

"Yes," Byleth says, immediately.

His father smiles softly. "Alright, good. We'll get you in there once the school year starts."

Before leaving, though, Byleth overhears him muttering, "God, never thought he could smile…"

*

Byleth isn't sure how it's initiated. But Claude had grabbed his hand beforehand and said, "We're gonna be taking this nice and slow, love. I'll show you how to do things, and you can decide what you want to do. And, babe, we don't have to do everything in one day." Claude smiles at Byleth, before squeezing his hand. Byleth squeezes back on impulse. 

"'Kay. Wanna take off our shirts?" Claude asks. 

Byleth nods, and begins to strip himself.

"Wait. May I?" Claude asks. After another nod from Byleth, warm fingers appear at the hem of his shirt, and begin tugging up. Byleth raises his arms to help, and it's tossed to the side. 

Claude strips himself of his own shirt, and pauses with his hands hovering over Byleth's chest. "This is alright, right?"

"Yes. You… don't ask. We’ve done this part before. I'll move you or me if I don't like it," Byleth says. 

"You got it, love," Claude says with a wink. "God, not gonna lie… you've got a great chest. I know, I’ve said it, but..." There's no other words; Claude fondles the pecs of his chest. Jeralt forces him to exercise with him, so there's some slight definition, but Claude seems enamored with it. Byleth can't seem to get used to the attention, no matter how many times they've been here. He rubs his thumbs over his nipples, which doesn't feel bad, and lightly pinches, which feels pretty nice. 

But Byleth wants to touch back, and thus, he does. He drags his fingertips up and down Claude’s chest, down his torso, down to his waistband. They have gone further in previous encounters, yet, Byleth always feels that trepidation when he moves to strip Claude.

“Do those books of yours say how men go all the way together?” Claude begins. His hands slow, faintly brushing over his chest.

Byleth nods.

“It’s my, uh, preference to bottom.” Claude stills his hands, retracting them, and Byleth follows his lead.

The terminology is confusing, and that must show, since he clarifies in a deadpan, “I’m happy to take your penis up my ass.” 

Byleth finds himself blushing furiously.

“Well, time to let my powerbottom self truly shine, huh,” Claude mutters. “Get on your back.”

Following his order, Byleth settles on the bed. 

“Alright, um, I might get a little snippy and demanding? Like, more than usual? So, if it ever becomes too much or you don’t like it and we should’ve discussed this beforehand," that last bit is said in a hiss, "Just make some noise. Like, knock on the headboard or snap or clap or whatever. If you feel up to talking, you can say, ‘slow down’ or ‘stop’. Whatever you need."

"Y-yes. I've got it," Byleth says, nodding with gravity.

"Good. Now." Claude straddles his hips, but settles most of his weight on his knees, on either side of Byleth. "Here's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna go prepare myself in the bathroom, and then I'm gonna ride you. Uh, your dick. Ride your dick."

Byleth's never been so embarrassed in his life. His cheeks flush redder than even that one time Jeralt walked in on his and Claude’s first kiss. 

"You got all that? Good." Leaning down, Claude frames Byleth's head with his arms. A chaste kiss is planted on Byleth's lips, but he grabs Claude's face so they can deepen it. When Claude pulls away, though, Byleth lets him. 

"We'll be here all night if you start up now, babe," Claude mumbles. Something must've shown on Byleth's face, because Claude tweaks one of his nipples a tad harsher than normal and says, "I'll only be a little bit. Don't touch yourself too much," before getting up and sauntering off to the bathroom.

Byleth sits up to strip off his pants and underwear. Wait- was he supposed to lay back down? The position left a bit of weird anxiety- not the kind that make him excited; the kind that make him dread- so Byleth doesn't think Claude will make him. Maybe if he arranges the pillows so he can sit half-up? The position feels better, now. That weird dread is still there, though, but mostly diminished.

What if Byleth has just made everything worse? Logically speaking, he knows that it's ridiculous that a small position change can ruin an entire sexual encounter, but logic doesn't matter when that anxiety makes his limbs tremor and shake. 

"'Kay babe, I'm done," Claude says. He smirks in his usual cocky way, but underneath that, a fondness. Love. The feeling competes with the anxiety.

"You weren't quite comfortable? Always feel free to move when ya need to. Should I grab another pillow or something?" he asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Byleth shakes his head. 

"Are you still feeling a little nervous? You've gone soft, love." At first, Byleth thought he was referring to his attitude, which is kind of weird, but then he realized that it was about his dick.

Claude stretches, showing off his arms and torso. Byleth can't tell if it's on purpose or not. "Remember when I blew you a while back? Why don’t we do that again?”

How could Byleth not remember? Claude had been intent on drawing things out for as long as possible; by the time he grinned up at Byleth and said cum, babe Byleth was in tears. It was one of the hottest things they’ve ever done together.

After Byleth nodded, Claude just dove right in. Tonguing over Byleth’s soft dick, working it back to full hardness with his mouth and hands. Once he’s back at full mast, though, Claude comes off after a teasing kiss to the head. “Yeah, Byleth, you have, like, no endurance. Don’t want ya cumming as soon as you get in."

Claude sits up to straddle Byleth again, and he rests his hands on Byleth's chest. "You ready, babe?" 

"Yes." Byleth's eyebrows furrow, just a tad.

The other man reaches to grab Byleth's dick underneath him, positioning it to his rim. "Hey, don't worry 'bout anything. Except, y'know, blowing your load too quick."

With that, Claude begins sinking down onto it. "Mm, you're thick, love. I was worried I had prepped too much or something, but…"

The heat around Byleth's cock feels impossibly tight. Arousal in the pit of his stomach threatens to tip him over the edge, but, somehow, he holds on. 

Once Claude bottoms out, he again rests his hands on Byleth's chest, then the sides of his shoulders. "God, that feels so good," he moans. "But I gotta have a chance to adjust."

Byleth nods and strokes some over Claude's dick, nice and slow. But Claude stops him after a few more. "I wanna make this last, babe, and you're just so fucking good."

"Y-you are too. You, ah, feel so…" Byleth blushes. His plan to reciprocate the dirty talk isn't going so well. "Feel… so tight. It's so good. You look so hot…"

And he does. Claude's coated in a light sheen of sweat, which makes his pecs and strong arms stand out even more. His half-lidded gaze is fixated on Byleth. His pupils are huge. Byleth strokes a few teasing fingertips over Claude's flushed dick and even the light touch makes some pre-cum leak out. 

"Fuck, babe." Claude's sneaky fingers pinch Byleth's nipples. Come to think of it, Claude does seem to have a thing for them. Byleth lets Claude's cock go, and he laces their fingers together, palm to palm. "You're strong, yeah? I'm gonna use your arms for support."

Byleth nods and locks both his arms into position, dictated by Claude's tugging. "Good, good. Think I'm ready, now."

With that, Claude began to slide up Byleth's dick. The friction is delicious, but Claude's descent feels even better, and Byleth ends up bucking into Claude's ass on the final few inches.

"Yeah, like that, babe…" Claude trails off with a groan. 

It's rude for one party to do all the work, Byleth thinks distantly, so he lets go of Claude's hands to grab his hips and continue to thrust up into him.

Claude settles his hands again on Byleth's upper arms for leverage's sake. It feels like the two of them are moving as one, and once Byleth hits just the right spot, all of Claude's talk of making it last falls away. 

"Byleth- babe, right, right there-" Claude whispers, his lust-filled gaze all focused right on Byleth. "Fuck, Byleth, I love you I love you I'm so close-"

Byleth grabs the back of Claude's head, knots his fingers into the other man's hair, and murmurs into his ear, "Y-you're so hot, love, I- I-" Words have failed him yet again, so he resorts to thrusting up sharply with his hips and jacking Claude off with a hand.

It must do the trick, as Claude's whispers turn into a stream of incomprehensible mumbles and he shoots into Byleth's fist. Byleth's eyes widen as Claude's walls clench around him, but, somehow, he holds on through Claude's orgasm.

As Claude clings to him through the aftershocks, Byleth pulls out (causing some disgruntled mumbles from Claude) and jacks himself off into the condom. His orgasm isn't as loud, but it still feels incredible, and he rests his forehead on Claude's shoulder as he pants softly.

"Damn, Byleth," Claude says, softly. "I love you."

Byleth mumbles back, "Love you, too," but his words are all slurred. His tone must've gotten his feelings across, though, since Claude nods.

After that, they catch their breaths together. 

*

When they bathe together, the intimacy feels just as incredible. Byleth feels utterly exhausted and Claude has to hold him up throughout, but, somehow, it's the only thing Byleth wants to feel for the rest of his life. Just being close to the other man. 

Claude helps him back into the bedroom, where he sits Byleth down on his desk chair as he changes out the bed sheets. Once that's done, they both lay down. 

"You were great, love," Claude murmurs sleepily into Byleth's hair. "Absolutely fantastic. G'night."

***

The whole group of Golden Deer are meeting up in the diner.

Claude taps the side of his glass with a metal spoon, obnoxiously. "Alright, alright, let's call this meeting to order, everyone," he calls.

Conversation drops off pretty quick.

"Okay, so, we know that something's going on between the other two groups, yeah? Do we have any further ideas?"

Lysithea leans forward to say, "Yes. Apparently, the Blue Lions have some sort of information they're holding against Black Eagles."

"We already knew that," Claude says. "Anybo-"

"I know what that information is and what they're going to do with it," she says, lowly. Confidently.

On instinct, Byleth’s eyes rove around, and he notices that there's movement in the booth in front of them. An odd feeling tugs in the pit of his stomach, so Byleth stands up to investigate.

"Babe- oh." Claude's eyes widen once he gets on his knees on the seat to see what's going on.

Two members of Black Eagles are there- a woman with tan skin and purple hair and a broad-shouldered man with orange hair. 

"Hey, we can eat wherever we like!" The man says as Byleth approaches.

"The diner is almost completely empty," Byleth finds himself saying. "And you chose the booth right next to your rivals."

Nobody talks for a long, long while. Byleth simply stares down at the two. It feels like Byleth isn’t in control of his body at all, like he’s watching the proceedings in third person. 

Finally, Marianne's quiet voice says, "I- I thought Byleth couldn't talk at all."

A huff, then Byleth says, "Shush. Anyway, why are you two here."

"To eat, of course!" The orange-haired man says.

"The waitress hasn't been by in thirty minutes. Even I would've left by now." Byleth leans on the table, fingers tapping in annoyance. "In fact, you two should leave. Right now."

The woman tugs on her partner's sleeve. "We- we should departing. Please, Ferdinand."

"Fine, fine. Be careful, though! Don't mess with the Black Eagles!" He shouts, as they both head up and out.

For the rest of the meeting, Byleth finds himself curled on Claude, shaking wildly. 

"Panic attack?" Claude questions, softly. Byleth nods. He has no real idea when his shaking episodes had stopped being passed off and became something to be eased through, but it's been a far more pleasant way.

"You wanna go home?"

Byleth shakes his head. Right now, despite the oppressive feeling of anxiety coursing through him- he feels just a little bit better with Claude by his side.

Claude strokes his hair and smiles down at him, and Byleth can't help but to smile back. Through Byleth's surge of bravado against the two from earlier, through passion and Jeralt's teasing, through easy dates and harsh emotions, Byleth feels right with the other man.

Right before he closes his eyes, for just a moment, he thinks he sees Sothis standing above him, proudly gazing down.

***

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! if i misrepresented something/some other mistake, feel free to say so!


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